08; exo; in the gaps between the fireflies; part 2
part 1
in the gaps between the fireflies
part 2
The next day greets them with a light drizzle and a cat curled into Minseok’s bag, trying to find shelter from the water.
The part of the suburb they’re in has buildings only a few stories tall, dotted rarely by buildings more than ten floors high. Parks and stretches of soil are not exactly common, but nature is something that never waits; undisturbed puddles have melted dips in the asphalt, and a number of plants are beginning between the cracks.
They walk beneath the awnings, sometimes peeking into the doors. Zitao swiped some candy from a candy store, leaving a few small bills on the counter, and they briefly borrowed a soccer ball from a sports shop until they decided it would be more fun with more than three people. A radio in a second-hand bookstore was buzzing with static and Jongin played with the knobs, not quite getting anything but slipping it into his bag anyway, and Minseok left a small ‘we owe you a radio :)’ note on the counter.
Eventually, however, the rain becomes a bit too much, and the puddles at some areas have become a bit too deep to walk through and expect dry feet after. The only buildings around with beds are hotels with too dim corridors and a lone hospital, and while Zitao objects to the latter with a shiver, they enter it to find windows where they need to be and more all over the ceiling. Minseok manages to persuade Zitao that no, no ghosts, and that their stay won't be so bad; there’s even a small food stall in the lobby with things like crackers, biscuits, and instant coffee.
Zitao ends up convincing them to stay at the lobby with the coffee, far away from any beds, but oh well. Jongin doesn’t really mind. The company’s not bad, after all.
They’re huddled around a campfire made from pre-prepared wood and a few blankets, warm cups of coffee in their hands courtesy of Minseok. The wind’s not particularly strong but the tap-tap-tap of water echoes against the lobby's glass ceiling, rhythmic and overlapping with the soft notes in Jongin’s head. It calms him more than usual.
Looking up at the ceiling in wonder, Zitao traces the patterns on the glass with his eyes and says, “I’ve never seen a hospital that has something like this, before.”
Minseok smiles. “I used to go here often, and I remember thinking that, too.”
“Often?” Jongin blinks. Minseok doesn’t seem like the type to be careless.
“I used to work near here,” Minseok replies after a sip of his coffee. “When one of my experiments misfire, I usually end up staying here, and, well…” He shrugs lightly and chuckles. “The staff knew me well - even the interns and med students.”
Something catches briefly in Jongin’s throat, and he looks around, trying to will it away. It only gets worse when he spies a green parka abandoned on the chair behind the front desk, and Jongin swallows, averting his eyes to Minseok instead. “I met one, earlier. After the end.”
Zitao’s mouth rounds in surprise. “He didn’t go with you?”
“He was…” Jongin’s eyes fix onto the I.D. next to the parka, and in the picture, he sees a bright, bright smile. “…He was waiting for someone. A med student, like him.”
Minseok follows Jongin’s gaze before returning to the campfire. “You never know. Maybe that’s someone else’s.” He takes a sip. “Someone else who disappeared.”
“Was it painful?”
Jongin and Minseok both turn in Zitao's direction and the younger man slightly shrinks under both of their gazes, eyes dropping to look at the fire. Minseok lips twitch upward a bit before he looks away, but Jongin blinks back. “What was painful?”
“Disappearing.” Zitao’s thumb on the coffee cup rubs in thoughtful circles. “I’ve always wondered why it happened, or who caused it, but, well.” He smiles, a bit sadly, but hopeful and accomplished. “There are more important things, like you guys told me.”
Minseok hides his growing smile behind his coffee cup.
“It’s. You’ve seen it, right?” Zitao nods, and Jongin continues. “It... didn’t look painful, for them.”
“And it’s wasn't,” Minseok affirms, looking out the window. His voice quiets down to a contemplative tone, and he looks down at the campfire, warm colors suddenly making him look more his age, but just as lost in this world as the rest of them. “The world ended in a bright, gentle way.”
Jongin takes a sip from his coffee, but it only makes his throat even more dry.
“You know,” Minseok begins, smiling again. “This reminds me of a video game I once played.” He sets his coffee down onto the floor and clasps his hands in his lap, clearing his throat dramatically and earning a small smile from Zitao. Minseok smiles more earnestly and continues. “So the main character’s this intern, working in a high-profile experimental sciences institute. He meets this guy in one of the labs, and they get along really fast.”
“First party member?” Zitao asks, almost grinning.
Minseok chuckles and nods. “Yeah, first, and only.” His eyes look to the sky exaggeratedly, an eyebrow cocked as he says, “He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be at a lab, though - there’s even this side quest where he wants to take care of a stray cat that wandered in the lab, but since it’s not allowed, you end up taking care of it at your house.”
His palm brushing over the cat’s fur, Jongin raises an amused eyebrow, and the cat in his lap stirs.
Minseok only glances at his direction before speaking again, small smile still on his face, but a bit more sober in the campfire’s light. “So. Yeah. He doesn’t fit there, but he’s… there for a reason.” He exhales. “That guy, he… It’s an experimental sciences institute, right?” Zitao nods, and Minseok exhales again. “He… he could speak. Mentally. His voice.”
Purposefully looking in Jongin’s direction, Minseok continues. “He could speak through his mind. Telepathic.”
Jongin’s breath starts to gather in his throat.
When Minseok talks next, his eyes are closed, and they stay that way. “For the final, final stage, or something. Final boss. It turns out that the guy’s part of an experiment. People were wondering if, maybe, they could let this guy’s voice be heard throughout the whole world.” His hands slip into his lab coat’s pockets. “They hooked him up onto a lot of wires, but that guy, he’s… kinda sickly. He probably wouldn’t make it through the experiment.
“So you cut the power and force it to stop halfway.”
Something in Minseok’s voice is too sincere, and Jongin swallows, fingers curling and turning white.
Minseok bends forward to get his cup of coffee, but he only swirls it as he speaks. “But something’s wrong, you know? The world, suddenly, it just went quiet, and.” The breath he lets out is long and recalling. “The city. Your co-workers. Everyone’s suddenly gone and the neighborhood’s suddenly so… bright.” His shoulders hunch. “I freed his body from all the wires, but…”
He swallows.
The rain lightens, unrelenting taps turning into a light patter against the windowpanes.
And Minseok open his eyes again, with a smile at the floor and a chuckle, soft, a sound lost in the rain. “So I’m just saying that it wasn’t his fault. It was mine.
“I’m sorry.”
They sleep early, that night. The sky is already dark, anyway.
The humming comes again, but Jongin’s eyes only stay open because of it. He can’t sleep to it. It sounds different. Maybe it’s the rain.
But a part of him knows that it’s not just that, and Jongin sits up, slipping out of the sleeping bag.
Minseok is a light sleeper, as always, even though his eyes look wearier tonight. “What’s wrong?”
“The voice is different, today. It’s someone else.” The rain muffles the syllables more, too, but Jongin knows the tones. “And I think. I think the song’s in Chinese. It used to be in Korean.”
Minseok bolts to a stand, walking towards Jongin with frantic steps. Zitao wakes up in the commotion, posture rigid and turning alarmed at Minseok’s voice, going, “Are you sure - ”
Minseok’s hand reaches forward to grab onto Jongin’s arm and suddenly the song becomes louder, clearer, almost right there and Minseok’s eyes suddenly brighten and overflow, crinkling in a smile. “Jongin. Jongin. This voice, I - ” His hold on Jongin’s arm starts to shake. “Can you… lead me to him?”
Jongin swallows, tries to smile, and a nod is the only reply he can manage.
All three of them end up winding through the hospital’s corridors, Jongin leading the way, and Zitao at the end, a hand on Minseok’s back. The cat is curled in Zitao’s arms, but just as awake as they are.
Jongin glances back, and while he sees Minseok with his eyes trained on the floor, Zitao’s eyebrows are in worried, confused slants. But Jongin can only mouth him a ‘later’ before continuing on his way, going up another flight of stairs.
They’re already on one of the floors closest to the top when Minseok suddenly lets go.
Jongin turns around fully this time, blinking, but Minseok shakes his head. “I know this, don’t worry. I came here often, remember?” He smiles again. “I wasn’t always alone.”
He starts to walk away and something feels wrong. It reminds Jongin of the time his father had suddenly fallen to the floor, still conscious, but fingers paling. It reminds him of the time he ran to his sister’s bedroom when he had looked out the window to see the whole town erupting in fireflies, taking to the air. An unease. Separation.
Zitao moves first, holding onto Minseok’s sleeve.
Minseok sighs, smiles, and tugs him along, still walking. With his other hand he calls Jongin over, too, and Jongin lets his wrist be held as they continue down the hallway, going past an endless number of doors.
They find themselves in front of room 505, the plate under the number reading ‘Luhan’.
The cat climbs out of Zitao’s hold.
Minseok lets go of the both of them, then moves forward to open the door.
The person standing next to the windowsill turns to face them, and the moonlight brightens his smile, passing right through it - his limbs and hair are all translucent, and his hospital gown, too. His eyes, too, but still expressive and wide, and his hands, too, reaching to the floor and letting the cat nuzzle into his fingers eagerly.
The loud humming in Jongin’s ears stops just as the other man smiles in Minseok’s direction and says, “You brought Baozi, too?”
Minseok walks forward, steps shaking and slow, and Luhan chuckles when Minseok takes his wrist. He doesn’t even blink his tears away as he smiles, small and tender. “So it was you…”
Luhan clicks his tongue. “Only stayed with Jongin because he’s lead you to me?” He looks at Jongin’s direction to mouth a ‘just kidding’, then returns his focus to Minseok, grin growing wider, eyes curling and gaze becoming softer.
Minseok tightens his grip, and his and Luhan’s feet start to fade away.
Jongin opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and maybe that’s the way it should be - everything, at this moment, feels too breakable, and Jongin closes his eyes when he hears Zitao sob from behind him. The usual voice returns to his ears, humming a small, happy tune, trying to comfort him but wobbling and unsteady, too. Maybe sad, too.
Tugging his wrist from Minseok’s hand, Luhan twines their fingers, and raises his free hand to pat Minseok’s face lightly. “Sorry, I would’ve contacted you sooner. You look really tired.” Minseok opens his mouth to respond but Luhan shakes his head. “I could only contact Jongin, since I’m… as you know, a bit weak, now.” But his smile brightens, knowing and implying. “I can’t contact someone unless they’re already being contacted by someone else at the same time.”
Slowly, Minseok’s eyes widen as he turns.
Luhan looks at Jongin, and the notes get louder, clearer, more joyful. “I think Minseok forgot to say that there were two of us in that experiment. Say hi for me, alright?” He waves, and Minseok waves too, both of their free hands as clear as glass.
Zitao sniffles, waving back, and Jongin waves too, but his eyes are trained to the side and Minseok chuckles, momentarily approaching to ruffle his and Zitao’s mops of hair. Jongin tries to imprint the caring touch onto his mind, the quietly cheerful voice - “Bye, guys.”
With a nod, Zitao is the first to turn towards the corridor, covering his eyes and almost hurrying away. Jongin follows, eyes screwed shut as he mumbles a small ‘goodbye’ back. The hand Minseok has on Jongin’s head slips back to his side, and Jongin briefly opens his eyes to find that it’s not there and that Minseok’s smile is different, today. Less precise, more real.
Turning away as Minseok closes the door, Jongin repeats in his mind that last image of him, and they leave.
(The door shuts.
Minseok turns around with a sigh, but a light-hearted smile hints on his lips. “I wasn’t using Jongin or anything, by the way.”
Luhan laughs and plays with Minseok’s fingers, bending them, feeling them. “I know - you wanted someone to tell our story to. I don’t think Jongin will make a movie or a book for us, though.”
Their shoulders start to disappear and Minseok grins unrepentantly. “Figured someone had to know before I left.”
“Is that really the reason you stuck around for so long?” Together, their waists start to disappear, their inhales and exhales, their heartbeats. Luhan tightens his hold on Minseok’s fingers. “I mean, this is pretty miraculous timing, disappearing at the same time.”
“I’m sure you know what I was waiting for.” Minseok tightens his own grip in kind. “Or searching for.” His eyes tiredly slip close, and he leans against Luhan with a small laugh. “Sorry I took so long.”
“It’s fine,” Luhan says, leaning back. Their meeting elbows fade away, and the smile he has on his face is content, accepting, fulfilled. “I was waiting for the same thing, anyway.”
And right where their fingers meet, Minseok and Luhan fade away into two motes of light, twirling in the air, playing, like the bright glow of a firework right before it fades. But they haven’t faded, yet, and they flitter out the window, following the moonlight.
A little, white cat watches the fireflies from the floor, then turns away, slipping past the curtains drawn around the room’s bed. It climbs onto the mattress and finds the cold, stiff body of a young man, one of his hands held by another man wearing a lab coat and seated at the bedside chair. The room almost seems frozen in that moment of time, marked by both of their tired smiles and faces.
The cat curls up next to their entwined fingers, and the tip of its tail flickers into and out of the air. It wants to go with them, too.
It can’t, yet. But in a while.)
Their sleep is restless and broken, but they leave the next day. The sky is a bright, cloudless blue.
They’re passing beneath a walkway lined by trees when Jongin notices a ray of light piercing through Zitao’s forearm like it’s not there, and Jongin stops. “Zitao,” he begins, and he ends.
Zitao pauses in the middle of his yawn, and when he sees Jongin’s face, smiles, sad and small.
Jongin swallows, voice soft, and although he hates to admit it, scared too, and small. Losing two people, the only two people, in two days… “Why?”
“I, kind of.” Zitao’s fingers come to rest against the back of his other hand. “I found out why this all happened, and it’s... not so bad, after all. My family wasn’t hurt or anything, so. Just…” He closes his eyes and slumps against the tree next to him, and the sunlight that filters from between the leaves filters past him, too, lighting him up from the inside-out. “Sorry, I’m… kinda tired.” He slides to the floor, but makes a heavy, relieved sigh. “You should go.”
Jongin kneels and lets the cat leap to the floor, about to reach for Zitao’s hand, but Zitao shakes his head. “You’re looking for someone, right?” The cat squeezes itself beneath Zitao’s fingers and Zitao chuckles. “See, I’m not lonely. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” But it won’t be, it won’t be, and Jongin stands and nods anyway. Slowly, a smile forms on his face, pained but there all the same, and he repeats, more to himself than to anyone else, a word that ends at a soft, withering volume, “Okay.”
And then, already a distance away, he repeats again, knuckles pressed into his eyes. “…Okay.”
He continues alone.
(And it’s here where the cat lets its tail wisp into the air, relaxing into Zitao’s lap. Everyone is alright, now. No one is lonely. Its reason for staying behind is fulfilled and over. Maybe no one will ever be completely happy, but no one is lonely, and sometimes, that’s all it takes.
It’s all too soon, too fast for a small body, and then there’s a small firefly brushing at Zitao’s face, like a lick of a small tongue and a brush of whiskers.
But as Zitao lets himself fall into the sunbeams, a voice -)
There’s a building in the distance, not very tall, but wide and stark white against the dark blue sky. An orange light glows from inside a hallway, past one of the building’s windows, moving and humming.
The notes are louder, now, and Jongin breaks into a run.
But at path leading to the building is a man, silhouette tall and imposing in dark colors.
Jongin’s soles halt just as the grey pavement turns into brick, and the man turns around, blinking at him, eyes sharp and watching. Eventually, however, the stranger’s expression changes and turns into a wry, weary half-smile. “Found out that the Chambers were here, too?”
Something in the other man's expresion is dangerous, but Jongin takes a few uneasy steps forward, face set in a smile of his own.
Wu Yifan.
They enter the building together, and Jongin wonders when they’ll be parting - he’s following where the light had gone, and Yifan is just walking by his side, a hand in his coat pocket. The older man is trying to make conversation and Jongin responds as he normally would, but when he asks why Jongin is here, Jongin makes sure not to answer. A part of him tells him he shouldn’t.
But Yifan is here because this is where his investigation has led him, and he knows a lot of things, more than Minseok or Zitao have ever told Jongin. His words have meanings behind them, pinpointed like needles. “A few minutes before the end, a number of people said they heard voices in their head.” He pauses, the hand in his pocket stirring. “The voices were apologizing.”
Jongin tries not to react, but he can’t help how his flashlight hand goes rigid, tightening over the metal. He tries to listen solely to the notes, to the crescendo which tells him where to go, calming himself down in the sound. He’s wary of the other man but his heart thumps so loudy that it eclipses that worry completely. The voice is right there. Right there.
If Yifan has noticed something, he doesn’t show it. “I’m sure you know what happened after.”
And then something prickles on the back of Jongin’s neck, but as they turn a corner, the song finishes its verses and transitions into the bridge.
An orange paper lantern encasing a candle, dangling by a net of rope in someone’s hands.
Jongin looks up at the face of the lantern's owner, and every inch of skin and bone looks familiar, even though it’s not, and even though this is the first time he’s actually seen him; he can imagine this man’s voice, the way he would speak. The way he would lean his back against someone else’s. The way how, when Jongin takes a few steps forward, the humming in his head bursts to life with harmonies, bright and colorful -
But suddenly Yifan has a knife in his hand and the lantern falls from the other man’s hands, going out as it hits the floor.
The notes fall and falter along with it, crashing into threatening, discordant flats as the other man’s footfalls escape away, but Yifan chases after with desperate, maddened steps and a speed that breaks the air.
Jongin also runs, but Yifan’s knife flies forward and pierces -
A final chord, and the humming stops.
Something in Jongin bursts, and his calves turn raw, his lungs, his throat - is he running? Is he screaming? He pushes Yifan away and at that momentary, meeting glance he shares with him, so many thoughts gather in his head. Are you satisfied, now? Is your life fulfilled, now? But Yifan looks as lost as he is, only standing, only looking at his own hands as the knife clatters to the floor.
Jongin turns away and runs forward.
The light is gone, and the song in his head is gone, too; Jongin listens more than ever, searching for an unsteady patter of footsteps. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else. The world minus Jongin is not any lonelier than before but Jongin minus what’s left of the world is nothing. Jongin minus what he has been looking for, all this time, is…
The voice that had been guiding him is gone, but Jongin manages to find it right where it is, in a dome-shaped room on the top floor.
The ceiling is made of glass, too, and the jagged edges and gaps only make it more prismatic. The moonlight’s shining from almost right above it, setting everything into a glow - the reinforced chamber off to the side with computers and a one-way mirror, the patches of wildflowers growing along the dome’s edges. The two cylindrical chambers set in the middle, side by side, one of them with a glass door that has been broken into and the other one...
Jongin approaches, footsteps and voice quiet. Everything feels fragile, again, like silence and glass and moonbeams. Like the other man, curled into the ajar, rusted chamber, with skin so pale and breaths so harsh that they mist in the air.
“Are you alright?” Jongin says, trying to gently fall to his knees, but they tremble too much and Jongin has a hand on the floor to support himself, too. His other hand is reaching out slowly, longingly, carefully. “Y-you stopped singing, and…”
There’s a small laugh, muffled into the other man’s knees, and he looks up with a smile. “You heard me.”
Almost frantically, Jongin nods, and when his fingers meet the other man’s cheek, that’s all he needs to hear a small, weak voice again from inside him - this is Kim Joonmyun. This is Joonmyun. I’m Jongin. Are you alright? The song stopped. It stopped, but please, don’t, yet…
And Joonmyun gently pushes Jongin’s hand away with a smile and a tightening of the arms wrapped around his sides. “Sorry, I’m just…” Still with a smile, he exhales, but it’s much too loud in the air. “Tired, right now. From the run.”
Jongin swallows, about to speak, but Joonmyun presses his side against the wall of the chamber and continues. “And sorry for running away from you, that time in the forest.” He makes a small, breathless chuckle. “I get startled when people suddenly chase me, after all. Childhood habit.”
But then Joonmyun’s head lolls forward, and his shoulders almost follow - Jongin holds onto them tight, feels like he’s holding onto himself, too, and just as Joonmyun speaks with another small laugh - “I guess I had the right idea this time, though.” - Jongin sees it.
The small, red flowers blooming on the floor, dripping from the fingers Joonmyun has pressed onto his side.
Jongin’s eyes begin to blur, and he wants to laugh as he reaches out, frantically applying more pressure onto Joonmyun’s wound with his own hands. This doesn’t make sense. He’s crying because of someone he’s barely even met. He’s invested so much of himself into looking for this person in the first place, and just as they meet, Jongin’s already crying and letting his fingers be covered in blood.
He digs in his pockets with his other hand, looking for a handkerchief, a spare shirt, anything to tie a bandage with, but Joonmyun pushes his hands away with a shake of his head.
This only makes Jongin try harder, and he turns around, crouched and facing his back to the other man. He holds onto Joonmyun’s legs, brings the other man’s knees to rest next to his waist, and when Joonmyun’s leaned against his back enough, Jongin stands and starts walking.
The wetness seeping onto the back of his shirt is steady and warm in all the wrong ways.
Each footfall is careful, especially as they’re going down the stairs, Joonmyun’s breaths hitching with each step. Especially as they pass by Yifan, sitting with his back against a wall of glass and his face in his hands, a short, stained blade a distance away. Especially as they pass by a paper lantern, dark and folded on the floor.
“Jongin,” Joonmyun calls, the hand he has on Jongin’s back gently tapping. “Don’t forget the light.”
Delicately, Jongin sets Joonmyun down against the wall and takes the lantern in one of his hands, thinking to light it. The candle inside is already exhausted, however.
Joonmyun just shakes his head and smiles. “It’s alright, we just need to bring it along.”
But Jongin’s already reaching into his pocket, and when his fingers find a bookmark, Joonmyun’s eyes widen.
He crumples the bookmark and its tassel into a small ball, just big enough to fit into the little cup where the candle had been. Both of its surfaces are glossy and Jongin figures it would burn for some time, but Joonmyun swallows, hand hesitant and flat against Jongin’s back. “Are you sure? It’s your father’s…”
This time it's Jongin who shakes his head, and he sets the bookmark alight, the orange glow brighter and gentler than it’s ever been.
Jongin continues walking, and he’s not alone. The warmth seeping into his back reminds him that he doesn’t want to be, and that he isn’t anymore, anyway. But Joonmyun’s eyelashes are fluttering and Jongin starts to babble; he doesn’t want to be alone, he doesn’t, he doesn't. “Joonmyun?”
Joonmyun questioningly hums in response.
They make it out of the building a footstep later and Jongin holds onto Joonmyun a bit tighter. “I. I know someone, he can help you. A med student.” Joonmyun’s limbs are cold, but the breaths against Jongin’s neck are not. “We’re… we’re going there, alright?”
The journey would probably take more than a day.
“Jongin,” Joonmyun begins, hands holding onto the fabric on Jongin’s shoulders. “Jongin. You don’t have to.”
But Jongin knows that he has to, so he keeps walking.
Joonmyun leans closer into Jongin’s back and sighs. “You left your bag in the building, you know.”
“Yeah.” Besides, the weight of Joonmyun against him is warm, and Jongin would take that over his backpack any day. “I know.”
And Joonmyun curls up a bit less, shoulders and torso not as tense, smiling into Jongin’s shoulder blade.
They pass by Zitao, sitting anxiously beneath a tree, posture exactly like how it had been when Jongin first talked to him in his living room.
Jongin swallows, and a smile bubbles onto his face. “Zitao, how - ”
Zitao shoots to his feet and runs towards Jongin, fingers reaching out and holding onto his sleeve. His words and eyes are tired but eager. “I heard the voice, too! It told me, told me not to leave, yet - ”
Softly, Joonmyun hums a small chuckle into Jongin’s back, and he speaks. “I’m glad you listened.”
Zitao stills.
“Here.” Joonmyun pats one of Jongin’s arms. It’s the one holding the paper lantern, and Jongin holds it up, blinking with his head slightly turned to Joonmyun’s direction. “Take it, and make sure it doesn’t go out, okay?”
Eyes wide, Zitao holds onto the lantern, and his face starts to crease again. The air feels like it’s gently weaning them away from each other.
Joonmyun pats Zitao’s shoulder and smiles. “Can I ask you for another favor?”
The corners of Zitao's eyes are trembling, but he nods.
“There’s a man in that building,” Joonmyun says, head tilted towards the wide, white building in the distance. “Could you tell him that I forgive him?” With a reassuring smile, he adds, “And then let’s meet up at the mall, after. Please?”
Holding onto the lantern with two hands, Zitao takes deep breath, then looks up and smiles. “Alright.”
After a small exchange of goodbyes and stay safes, they part, and something in the air almost becomes impassable.
But it’s alright.
The sky is already turning orange when Joonmyun starts humming again, and hearing it both from inside and outside his own mind makes Jongin smile. But it still worries him, because Joonmyun’s breaths become deeper with the effort, and Jongin taps the clothed skin beneath his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Contacting others,” Joonmyun replies simply, his mind continuing its melody. Zitao’s neighborhood is as peaceful as always. “We’re outside, so it’s easier. More signal.”
“You’re like a cell phone,” Jongin says, and Joonmyun chuckles again, light notes that echo softly in the air. The grass beneath their feet is tall and flowering, and there are little motes of light being stirred into motion along with the dewdrops. “How many people are left?”
And Joonmyun’s breaths become a bit harsher, but his voice is earnest and alive. “Enough for the world.”
As they walk through the campus, a number of fireflies come out of hiding from between the leaves of the books in the library, shining out its windows. They resurface from inside the pool water. They flicker into the cafeteria like its students during lunch time, bustling and filling it with movement, but it’s quiet, today.
Joonmyun repeats his song again, and when Jongin hums along in his mind, Joonmyun smiles.
Now, the sky is purple, beginning to shine. The road ahead them is lit by stars, and there are a few motes of light waking up in the trees, little dots that blink like sleepy, tired eyes.
The song quiets down on its last note, and Joonmyun sighs into Jongin’s back, the movement of his lungs fluttering like a landing butterfly. “Ah, I’m done…”
Jongin ignores the way Joonmyun’s toes start to lose their color to the air and gathers his voice before he speaks. “You’re not.” He adjusts his grip, and his arm and legs are tired, but he continues. “We’re close to the mall, already.”
Joonmyun laughs, turning to rest his cheek on Jongin and look at the sky. “Yeah, I guess I’m not done, yet.” The strands of his hair start to flicker in the fireflies’ dim light, and from black, they turn brown, they turn into a lucent tan. “Still have to keep you company, right?”
They walk a bit more, and the fireflies are ever-present.
A thought comes to Jongin’s mind, quiet and almost slipping out of his mouth; I want you to stay, but it’s okay. Joonmyun’s ankles start to fade. It’s okay.
Joonmyun speaks again, and Jongin starts to repeat the other man's words in his mind, each syllable like stars that Jongin has to keep close. “I remember seeing you in the forest, and you were searching. Lonely.” Joonmyun gently rubs circles onto Jongin’s back with his fingers. “So I’m keeping you company.”
Jongin remembers them all, barely knowing them, yet holding them close already; Zitao’s slowly growing brightness, Minseok’s brotherly, teasing care, the little cat curled next to Jongin’s head late at night. Baekhyun’s and Yifan’s eyes, longing in their own ways. Joonmyun.
Jongin smiles, the pulse in his thumbs disappearing, and he holds onto Joonmyun’s knees tighter, more tenderly. “I’m not really lonely anymore, though.” Joonmyun starts to get lighter against his back and Jongin tugs Joonmyun just a bit closer. It’s like they’re about to float away. “And I found what I was looking for, so.” Each footstep becomes easier than the last, less fatigued, more effortless - “I guess I’m done.” - and Jongin closes his eyes.
The smile he gets in reply is small and barely against his neck, the short breaths coming out of it unhurried and comforting. “Well, if you’re not lonely anymore, I guess I really am done, too.”
One of Joonmyun’s arms unfolds itself from Jongin’s back, fingers letting go of the cloth, slowly reaching up to sling themselves loosely around Jongin's shoulders. Then there’s the other arm, and there’s Joonmyun’s chin leaning against Jongin’s shoulder and Joonmyun’s hair, tickling Jongin’s temples. The notes being hummed next to his ear are warm and familiar, growing weaker, softer, gentler.
Jongin leans his head against Joonmyun’s, and when their temples meet, he begins to sing with him.
And all around them, from amongst the bushes and between the trees, filling the sky and the gaps between Jongin and Joonmyun’s bodies, are hundreds and hundreds of fireflies, flickering to life, like the brightest glow of a firework right before it goes out.
This is how the world had ended, and this is how it rises again.
The orange light dangling from Zitao’s hands is warm.
Right behind him, Yifan walks, face less troubled.
The walk to the mall is long, but not at all tolling. The branches part above the worn dirt perfectly and the starts shine well into the thicket along the road, peaceful, nature beginning to make its marks onto the pathway unhindered. There’s nothing to be scared of, somehow.
But right at the end of it, just as they’re a few steps away from the mall’s front doors, they see a man standing outside, waiting for them.
This man, smile as bright as the whites of his uniform, chuckles. “I was told to look for a guy with a lantern, but I guess he found me first.”
And behind his head, two fireflies dance in the air before fading into the stars.
fin.
- masterlist + requests - watch - join -
my entry for aideshou's third challenge! i really loved the word prompt: ichariba chode, which can be taken to mean 'though we meet but once, even by chance, we are friends for life.' beautiful, right? ,_, and chode is written as 兄弟, which can be understood as brotherhood, and isn't exo a brotherhood? i had to write something ;;
has a baekyeol sidestory, and some upcoming xiuhan and baektaoris ones. :)
please vote here if you liked it~ got first place! ;; thank you for your votes!
any comments are appreciated <3
in the gaps between the fireflies
part 2
The next day greets them with a light drizzle and a cat curled into Minseok’s bag, trying to find shelter from the water.
The part of the suburb they’re in has buildings only a few stories tall, dotted rarely by buildings more than ten floors high. Parks and stretches of soil are not exactly common, but nature is something that never waits; undisturbed puddles have melted dips in the asphalt, and a number of plants are beginning between the cracks.
They walk beneath the awnings, sometimes peeking into the doors. Zitao swiped some candy from a candy store, leaving a few small bills on the counter, and they briefly borrowed a soccer ball from a sports shop until they decided it would be more fun with more than three people. A radio in a second-hand bookstore was buzzing with static and Jongin played with the knobs, not quite getting anything but slipping it into his bag anyway, and Minseok left a small ‘we owe you a radio :)’ note on the counter.
Eventually, however, the rain becomes a bit too much, and the puddles at some areas have become a bit too deep to walk through and expect dry feet after. The only buildings around with beds are hotels with too dim corridors and a lone hospital, and while Zitao objects to the latter with a shiver, they enter it to find windows where they need to be and more all over the ceiling. Minseok manages to persuade Zitao that no, no ghosts, and that their stay won't be so bad; there’s even a small food stall in the lobby with things like crackers, biscuits, and instant coffee.
Zitao ends up convincing them to stay at the lobby with the coffee, far away from any beds, but oh well. Jongin doesn’t really mind. The company’s not bad, after all.
They’re huddled around a campfire made from pre-prepared wood and a few blankets, warm cups of coffee in their hands courtesy of Minseok. The wind’s not particularly strong but the tap-tap-tap of water echoes against the lobby's glass ceiling, rhythmic and overlapping with the soft notes in Jongin’s head. It calms him more than usual.
Looking up at the ceiling in wonder, Zitao traces the patterns on the glass with his eyes and says, “I’ve never seen a hospital that has something like this, before.”
Minseok smiles. “I used to go here often, and I remember thinking that, too.”
“Often?” Jongin blinks. Minseok doesn’t seem like the type to be careless.
“I used to work near here,” Minseok replies after a sip of his coffee. “When one of my experiments misfire, I usually end up staying here, and, well…” He shrugs lightly and chuckles. “The staff knew me well - even the interns and med students.”
Something catches briefly in Jongin’s throat, and he looks around, trying to will it away. It only gets worse when he spies a green parka abandoned on the chair behind the front desk, and Jongin swallows, averting his eyes to Minseok instead. “I met one, earlier. After the end.”
Zitao’s mouth rounds in surprise. “He didn’t go with you?”
“He was…” Jongin’s eyes fix onto the I.D. next to the parka, and in the picture, he sees a bright, bright smile. “…He was waiting for someone. A med student, like him.”
Minseok follows Jongin’s gaze before returning to the campfire. “You never know. Maybe that’s someone else’s.” He takes a sip. “Someone else who disappeared.”
“Was it painful?”
Jongin and Minseok both turn in Zitao's direction and the younger man slightly shrinks under both of their gazes, eyes dropping to look at the fire. Minseok lips twitch upward a bit before he looks away, but Jongin blinks back. “What was painful?”
“Disappearing.” Zitao’s thumb on the coffee cup rubs in thoughtful circles. “I’ve always wondered why it happened, or who caused it, but, well.” He smiles, a bit sadly, but hopeful and accomplished. “There are more important things, like you guys told me.”
Minseok hides his growing smile behind his coffee cup.
“It’s. You’ve seen it, right?” Zitao nods, and Jongin continues. “It... didn’t look painful, for them.”
“And it’s wasn't,” Minseok affirms, looking out the window. His voice quiets down to a contemplative tone, and he looks down at the campfire, warm colors suddenly making him look more his age, but just as lost in this world as the rest of them. “The world ended in a bright, gentle way.”
Jongin takes a sip from his coffee, but it only makes his throat even more dry.
“You know,” Minseok begins, smiling again. “This reminds me of a video game I once played.” He sets his coffee down onto the floor and clasps his hands in his lap, clearing his throat dramatically and earning a small smile from Zitao. Minseok smiles more earnestly and continues. “So the main character’s this intern, working in a high-profile experimental sciences institute. He meets this guy in one of the labs, and they get along really fast.”
“First party member?” Zitao asks, almost grinning.
Minseok chuckles and nods. “Yeah, first, and only.” His eyes look to the sky exaggeratedly, an eyebrow cocked as he says, “He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be at a lab, though - there’s even this side quest where he wants to take care of a stray cat that wandered in the lab, but since it’s not allowed, you end up taking care of it at your house.”
His palm brushing over the cat’s fur, Jongin raises an amused eyebrow, and the cat in his lap stirs.
Minseok only glances at his direction before speaking again, small smile still on his face, but a bit more sober in the campfire’s light. “So. Yeah. He doesn’t fit there, but he’s… there for a reason.” He exhales. “That guy, he… It’s an experimental sciences institute, right?” Zitao nods, and Minseok exhales again. “He… he could speak. Mentally. His voice.”
Purposefully looking in Jongin’s direction, Minseok continues. “He could speak through his mind. Telepathic.”
Jongin’s breath starts to gather in his throat.
When Minseok talks next, his eyes are closed, and they stay that way. “For the final, final stage, or something. Final boss. It turns out that the guy’s part of an experiment. People were wondering if, maybe, they could let this guy’s voice be heard throughout the whole world.” His hands slip into his lab coat’s pockets. “They hooked him up onto a lot of wires, but that guy, he’s… kinda sickly. He probably wouldn’t make it through the experiment.
“So you cut the power and force it to stop halfway.”
Something in Minseok’s voice is too sincere, and Jongin swallows, fingers curling and turning white.
Minseok bends forward to get his cup of coffee, but he only swirls it as he speaks. “But something’s wrong, you know? The world, suddenly, it just went quiet, and.” The breath he lets out is long and recalling. “The city. Your co-workers. Everyone’s suddenly gone and the neighborhood’s suddenly so… bright.” His shoulders hunch. “I freed his body from all the wires, but…”
He swallows.
The rain lightens, unrelenting taps turning into a light patter against the windowpanes.
And Minseok open his eyes again, with a smile at the floor and a chuckle, soft, a sound lost in the rain. “So I’m just saying that it wasn’t his fault. It was mine.
“I’m sorry.”
They sleep early, that night. The sky is already dark, anyway.
The humming comes again, but Jongin’s eyes only stay open because of it. He can’t sleep to it. It sounds different. Maybe it’s the rain.
But a part of him knows that it’s not just that, and Jongin sits up, slipping out of the sleeping bag.
Minseok is a light sleeper, as always, even though his eyes look wearier tonight. “What’s wrong?”
“The voice is different, today. It’s someone else.” The rain muffles the syllables more, too, but Jongin knows the tones. “And I think. I think the song’s in Chinese. It used to be in Korean.”
Minseok bolts to a stand, walking towards Jongin with frantic steps. Zitao wakes up in the commotion, posture rigid and turning alarmed at Minseok’s voice, going, “Are you sure - ”
Minseok’s hand reaches forward to grab onto Jongin’s arm and suddenly the song becomes louder, clearer, almost right there and Minseok’s eyes suddenly brighten and overflow, crinkling in a smile. “Jongin. Jongin. This voice, I - ” His hold on Jongin’s arm starts to shake. “Can you… lead me to him?”
Jongin swallows, tries to smile, and a nod is the only reply he can manage.
All three of them end up winding through the hospital’s corridors, Jongin leading the way, and Zitao at the end, a hand on Minseok’s back. The cat is curled in Zitao’s arms, but just as awake as they are.
Jongin glances back, and while he sees Minseok with his eyes trained on the floor, Zitao’s eyebrows are in worried, confused slants. But Jongin can only mouth him a ‘later’ before continuing on his way, going up another flight of stairs.
They’re already on one of the floors closest to the top when Minseok suddenly lets go.
Jongin turns around fully this time, blinking, but Minseok shakes his head. “I know this, don’t worry. I came here often, remember?” He smiles again. “I wasn’t always alone.”
He starts to walk away and something feels wrong. It reminds Jongin of the time his father had suddenly fallen to the floor, still conscious, but fingers paling. It reminds him of the time he ran to his sister’s bedroom when he had looked out the window to see the whole town erupting in fireflies, taking to the air. An unease. Separation.
Zitao moves first, holding onto Minseok’s sleeve.
Minseok sighs, smiles, and tugs him along, still walking. With his other hand he calls Jongin over, too, and Jongin lets his wrist be held as they continue down the hallway, going past an endless number of doors.
They find themselves in front of room 505, the plate under the number reading ‘Luhan’.
The cat climbs out of Zitao’s hold.
Minseok lets go of the both of them, then moves forward to open the door.
The person standing next to the windowsill turns to face them, and the moonlight brightens his smile, passing right through it - his limbs and hair are all translucent, and his hospital gown, too. His eyes, too, but still expressive and wide, and his hands, too, reaching to the floor and letting the cat nuzzle into his fingers eagerly.
The loud humming in Jongin’s ears stops just as the other man smiles in Minseok’s direction and says, “You brought Baozi, too?”
Minseok walks forward, steps shaking and slow, and Luhan chuckles when Minseok takes his wrist. He doesn’t even blink his tears away as he smiles, small and tender. “So it was you…”
Luhan clicks his tongue. “Only stayed with Jongin because he’s lead you to me?” He looks at Jongin’s direction to mouth a ‘just kidding’, then returns his focus to Minseok, grin growing wider, eyes curling and gaze becoming softer.
Minseok tightens his grip, and his and Luhan’s feet start to fade away.
Jongin opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and maybe that’s the way it should be - everything, at this moment, feels too breakable, and Jongin closes his eyes when he hears Zitao sob from behind him. The usual voice returns to his ears, humming a small, happy tune, trying to comfort him but wobbling and unsteady, too. Maybe sad, too.
Tugging his wrist from Minseok’s hand, Luhan twines their fingers, and raises his free hand to pat Minseok’s face lightly. “Sorry, I would’ve contacted you sooner. You look really tired.” Minseok opens his mouth to respond but Luhan shakes his head. “I could only contact Jongin, since I’m… as you know, a bit weak, now.” But his smile brightens, knowing and implying. “I can’t contact someone unless they’re already being contacted by someone else at the same time.”
Slowly, Minseok’s eyes widen as he turns.
Luhan looks at Jongin, and the notes get louder, clearer, more joyful. “I think Minseok forgot to say that there were two of us in that experiment. Say hi for me, alright?” He waves, and Minseok waves too, both of their free hands as clear as glass.
Zitao sniffles, waving back, and Jongin waves too, but his eyes are trained to the side and Minseok chuckles, momentarily approaching to ruffle his and Zitao’s mops of hair. Jongin tries to imprint the caring touch onto his mind, the quietly cheerful voice - “Bye, guys.”
With a nod, Zitao is the first to turn towards the corridor, covering his eyes and almost hurrying away. Jongin follows, eyes screwed shut as he mumbles a small ‘goodbye’ back. The hand Minseok has on Jongin’s head slips back to his side, and Jongin briefly opens his eyes to find that it’s not there and that Minseok’s smile is different, today. Less precise, more real.
Turning away as Minseok closes the door, Jongin repeats in his mind that last image of him, and they leave.
(The door shuts.
Minseok turns around with a sigh, but a light-hearted smile hints on his lips. “I wasn’t using Jongin or anything, by the way.”
Luhan laughs and plays with Minseok’s fingers, bending them, feeling them. “I know - you wanted someone to tell our story to. I don’t think Jongin will make a movie or a book for us, though.”
Their shoulders start to disappear and Minseok grins unrepentantly. “Figured someone had to know before I left.”
“Is that really the reason you stuck around for so long?” Together, their waists start to disappear, their inhales and exhales, their heartbeats. Luhan tightens his hold on Minseok’s fingers. “I mean, this is pretty miraculous timing, disappearing at the same time.”
“I’m sure you know what I was waiting for.” Minseok tightens his own grip in kind. “Or searching for.” His eyes tiredly slip close, and he leans against Luhan with a small laugh. “Sorry I took so long.”
“It’s fine,” Luhan says, leaning back. Their meeting elbows fade away, and the smile he has on his face is content, accepting, fulfilled. “I was waiting for the same thing, anyway.”
And right where their fingers meet, Minseok and Luhan fade away into two motes of light, twirling in the air, playing, like the bright glow of a firework right before it fades. But they haven’t faded, yet, and they flitter out the window, following the moonlight.
A little, white cat watches the fireflies from the floor, then turns away, slipping past the curtains drawn around the room’s bed. It climbs onto the mattress and finds the cold, stiff body of a young man, one of his hands held by another man wearing a lab coat and seated at the bedside chair. The room almost seems frozen in that moment of time, marked by both of their tired smiles and faces.
The cat curls up next to their entwined fingers, and the tip of its tail flickers into and out of the air. It wants to go with them, too.
It can’t, yet. But in a while.)
Their sleep is restless and broken, but they leave the next day. The sky is a bright, cloudless blue.
They’re passing beneath a walkway lined by trees when Jongin notices a ray of light piercing through Zitao’s forearm like it’s not there, and Jongin stops. “Zitao,” he begins, and he ends.
Zitao pauses in the middle of his yawn, and when he sees Jongin’s face, smiles, sad and small.
Jongin swallows, voice soft, and although he hates to admit it, scared too, and small. Losing two people, the only two people, in two days… “Why?”
“I, kind of.” Zitao’s fingers come to rest against the back of his other hand. “I found out why this all happened, and it’s... not so bad, after all. My family wasn’t hurt or anything, so. Just…” He closes his eyes and slumps against the tree next to him, and the sunlight that filters from between the leaves filters past him, too, lighting him up from the inside-out. “Sorry, I’m… kinda tired.” He slides to the floor, but makes a heavy, relieved sigh. “You should go.”
Jongin kneels and lets the cat leap to the floor, about to reach for Zitao’s hand, but Zitao shakes his head. “You’re looking for someone, right?” The cat squeezes itself beneath Zitao’s fingers and Zitao chuckles. “See, I’m not lonely. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” But it won’t be, it won’t be, and Jongin stands and nods anyway. Slowly, a smile forms on his face, pained but there all the same, and he repeats, more to himself than to anyone else, a word that ends at a soft, withering volume, “Okay.”
And then, already a distance away, he repeats again, knuckles pressed into his eyes. “…Okay.”
He continues alone.
(And it’s here where the cat lets its tail wisp into the air, relaxing into Zitao’s lap. Everyone is alright, now. No one is lonely. Its reason for staying behind is fulfilled and over. Maybe no one will ever be completely happy, but no one is lonely, and sometimes, that’s all it takes.
It’s all too soon, too fast for a small body, and then there’s a small firefly brushing at Zitao’s face, like a lick of a small tongue and a brush of whiskers.
But as Zitao lets himself fall into the sunbeams, a voice -)
There’s a building in the distance, not very tall, but wide and stark white against the dark blue sky. An orange light glows from inside a hallway, past one of the building’s windows, moving and humming.
The notes are louder, now, and Jongin breaks into a run.
But at path leading to the building is a man, silhouette tall and imposing in dark colors.
Jongin’s soles halt just as the grey pavement turns into brick, and the man turns around, blinking at him, eyes sharp and watching. Eventually, however, the stranger’s expression changes and turns into a wry, weary half-smile. “Found out that the Chambers were here, too?”
Something in the other man's expresion is dangerous, but Jongin takes a few uneasy steps forward, face set in a smile of his own.
Wu Yifan.
They enter the building together, and Jongin wonders when they’ll be parting - he’s following where the light had gone, and Yifan is just walking by his side, a hand in his coat pocket. The older man is trying to make conversation and Jongin responds as he normally would, but when he asks why Jongin is here, Jongin makes sure not to answer. A part of him tells him he shouldn’t.
But Yifan is here because this is where his investigation has led him, and he knows a lot of things, more than Minseok or Zitao have ever told Jongin. His words have meanings behind them, pinpointed like needles. “A few minutes before the end, a number of people said they heard voices in their head.” He pauses, the hand in his pocket stirring. “The voices were apologizing.”
Jongin tries not to react, but he can’t help how his flashlight hand goes rigid, tightening over the metal. He tries to listen solely to the notes, to the crescendo which tells him where to go, calming himself down in the sound. He’s wary of the other man but his heart thumps so loudy that it eclipses that worry completely. The voice is right there. Right there.
If Yifan has noticed something, he doesn’t show it. “I’m sure you know what happened after.”
And then something prickles on the back of Jongin’s neck, but as they turn a corner, the song finishes its verses and transitions into the bridge.
An orange paper lantern encasing a candle, dangling by a net of rope in someone’s hands.
Jongin looks up at the face of the lantern's owner, and every inch of skin and bone looks familiar, even though it’s not, and even though this is the first time he’s actually seen him; he can imagine this man’s voice, the way he would speak. The way he would lean his back against someone else’s. The way how, when Jongin takes a few steps forward, the humming in his head bursts to life with harmonies, bright and colorful -
But suddenly Yifan has a knife in his hand and the lantern falls from the other man’s hands, going out as it hits the floor.
The notes fall and falter along with it, crashing into threatening, discordant flats as the other man’s footfalls escape away, but Yifan chases after with desperate, maddened steps and a speed that breaks the air.
Jongin also runs, but Yifan’s knife flies forward and pierces -
A final chord, and the humming stops.
Something in Jongin bursts, and his calves turn raw, his lungs, his throat - is he running? Is he screaming? He pushes Yifan away and at that momentary, meeting glance he shares with him, so many thoughts gather in his head. Are you satisfied, now? Is your life fulfilled, now? But Yifan looks as lost as he is, only standing, only looking at his own hands as the knife clatters to the floor.
Jongin turns away and runs forward.
The light is gone, and the song in his head is gone, too; Jongin listens more than ever, searching for an unsteady patter of footsteps. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else. The world minus Jongin is not any lonelier than before but Jongin minus what’s left of the world is nothing. Jongin minus what he has been looking for, all this time, is…
The voice that had been guiding him is gone, but Jongin manages to find it right where it is, in a dome-shaped room on the top floor.
The ceiling is made of glass, too, and the jagged edges and gaps only make it more prismatic. The moonlight’s shining from almost right above it, setting everything into a glow - the reinforced chamber off to the side with computers and a one-way mirror, the patches of wildflowers growing along the dome’s edges. The two cylindrical chambers set in the middle, side by side, one of them with a glass door that has been broken into and the other one...
Jongin approaches, footsteps and voice quiet. Everything feels fragile, again, like silence and glass and moonbeams. Like the other man, curled into the ajar, rusted chamber, with skin so pale and breaths so harsh that they mist in the air.
“Are you alright?” Jongin says, trying to gently fall to his knees, but they tremble too much and Jongin has a hand on the floor to support himself, too. His other hand is reaching out slowly, longingly, carefully. “Y-you stopped singing, and…”
There’s a small laugh, muffled into the other man’s knees, and he looks up with a smile. “You heard me.”
Almost frantically, Jongin nods, and when his fingers meet the other man’s cheek, that’s all he needs to hear a small, weak voice again from inside him - this is Kim Joonmyun. This is Joonmyun. I’m Jongin. Are you alright? The song stopped. It stopped, but please, don’t, yet…
And Joonmyun gently pushes Jongin’s hand away with a smile and a tightening of the arms wrapped around his sides. “Sorry, I’m just…” Still with a smile, he exhales, but it’s much too loud in the air. “Tired, right now. From the run.”
Jongin swallows, about to speak, but Joonmyun presses his side against the wall of the chamber and continues. “And sorry for running away from you, that time in the forest.” He makes a small, breathless chuckle. “I get startled when people suddenly chase me, after all. Childhood habit.”
But then Joonmyun’s head lolls forward, and his shoulders almost follow - Jongin holds onto them tight, feels like he’s holding onto himself, too, and just as Joonmyun speaks with another small laugh - “I guess I had the right idea this time, though.” - Jongin sees it.
The small, red flowers blooming on the floor, dripping from the fingers Joonmyun has pressed onto his side.
Jongin’s eyes begin to blur, and he wants to laugh as he reaches out, frantically applying more pressure onto Joonmyun’s wound with his own hands. This doesn’t make sense. He’s crying because of someone he’s barely even met. He’s invested so much of himself into looking for this person in the first place, and just as they meet, Jongin’s already crying and letting his fingers be covered in blood.
He digs in his pockets with his other hand, looking for a handkerchief, a spare shirt, anything to tie a bandage with, but Joonmyun pushes his hands away with a shake of his head.
This only makes Jongin try harder, and he turns around, crouched and facing his back to the other man. He holds onto Joonmyun’s legs, brings the other man’s knees to rest next to his waist, and when Joonmyun’s leaned against his back enough, Jongin stands and starts walking.
The wetness seeping onto the back of his shirt is steady and warm in all the wrong ways.
Each footfall is careful, especially as they’re going down the stairs, Joonmyun’s breaths hitching with each step. Especially as they pass by Yifan, sitting with his back against a wall of glass and his face in his hands, a short, stained blade a distance away. Especially as they pass by a paper lantern, dark and folded on the floor.
“Jongin,” Joonmyun calls, the hand he has on Jongin’s back gently tapping. “Don’t forget the light.”
Delicately, Jongin sets Joonmyun down against the wall and takes the lantern in one of his hands, thinking to light it. The candle inside is already exhausted, however.
Joonmyun just shakes his head and smiles. “It’s alright, we just need to bring it along.”
But Jongin’s already reaching into his pocket, and when his fingers find a bookmark, Joonmyun’s eyes widen.
He crumples the bookmark and its tassel into a small ball, just big enough to fit into the little cup where the candle had been. Both of its surfaces are glossy and Jongin figures it would burn for some time, but Joonmyun swallows, hand hesitant and flat against Jongin’s back. “Are you sure? It’s your father’s…”
This time it's Jongin who shakes his head, and he sets the bookmark alight, the orange glow brighter and gentler than it’s ever been.
Jongin continues walking, and he’s not alone. The warmth seeping into his back reminds him that he doesn’t want to be, and that he isn’t anymore, anyway. But Joonmyun’s eyelashes are fluttering and Jongin starts to babble; he doesn’t want to be alone, he doesn’t, he doesn't. “Joonmyun?”
Joonmyun questioningly hums in response.
They make it out of the building a footstep later and Jongin holds onto Joonmyun a bit tighter. “I. I know someone, he can help you. A med student.” Joonmyun’s limbs are cold, but the breaths against Jongin’s neck are not. “We’re… we’re going there, alright?”
The journey would probably take more than a day.
“Jongin,” Joonmyun begins, hands holding onto the fabric on Jongin’s shoulders. “Jongin. You don’t have to.”
But Jongin knows that he has to, so he keeps walking.
Joonmyun leans closer into Jongin’s back and sighs. “You left your bag in the building, you know.”
“Yeah.” Besides, the weight of Joonmyun against him is warm, and Jongin would take that over his backpack any day. “I know.”
And Joonmyun curls up a bit less, shoulders and torso not as tense, smiling into Jongin’s shoulder blade.
They pass by Zitao, sitting anxiously beneath a tree, posture exactly like how it had been when Jongin first talked to him in his living room.
Jongin swallows, and a smile bubbles onto his face. “Zitao, how - ”
Zitao shoots to his feet and runs towards Jongin, fingers reaching out and holding onto his sleeve. His words and eyes are tired but eager. “I heard the voice, too! It told me, told me not to leave, yet - ”
Softly, Joonmyun hums a small chuckle into Jongin’s back, and he speaks. “I’m glad you listened.”
Zitao stills.
“Here.” Joonmyun pats one of Jongin’s arms. It’s the one holding the paper lantern, and Jongin holds it up, blinking with his head slightly turned to Joonmyun’s direction. “Take it, and make sure it doesn’t go out, okay?”
Eyes wide, Zitao holds onto the lantern, and his face starts to crease again. The air feels like it’s gently weaning them away from each other.
Joonmyun pats Zitao’s shoulder and smiles. “Can I ask you for another favor?”
The corners of Zitao's eyes are trembling, but he nods.
“There’s a man in that building,” Joonmyun says, head tilted towards the wide, white building in the distance. “Could you tell him that I forgive him?” With a reassuring smile, he adds, “And then let’s meet up at the mall, after. Please?”
Holding onto the lantern with two hands, Zitao takes deep breath, then looks up and smiles. “Alright.”
After a small exchange of goodbyes and stay safes, they part, and something in the air almost becomes impassable.
But it’s alright.
The sky is already turning orange when Joonmyun starts humming again, and hearing it both from inside and outside his own mind makes Jongin smile. But it still worries him, because Joonmyun’s breaths become deeper with the effort, and Jongin taps the clothed skin beneath his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Contacting others,” Joonmyun replies simply, his mind continuing its melody. Zitao’s neighborhood is as peaceful as always. “We’re outside, so it’s easier. More signal.”
“You’re like a cell phone,” Jongin says, and Joonmyun chuckles again, light notes that echo softly in the air. The grass beneath their feet is tall and flowering, and there are little motes of light being stirred into motion along with the dewdrops. “How many people are left?”
And Joonmyun’s breaths become a bit harsher, but his voice is earnest and alive. “Enough for the world.”
As they walk through the campus, a number of fireflies come out of hiding from between the leaves of the books in the library, shining out its windows. They resurface from inside the pool water. They flicker into the cafeteria like its students during lunch time, bustling and filling it with movement, but it’s quiet, today.
Joonmyun repeats his song again, and when Jongin hums along in his mind, Joonmyun smiles.
Now, the sky is purple, beginning to shine. The road ahead them is lit by stars, and there are a few motes of light waking up in the trees, little dots that blink like sleepy, tired eyes.
The song quiets down on its last note, and Joonmyun sighs into Jongin’s back, the movement of his lungs fluttering like a landing butterfly. “Ah, I’m done…”
Jongin ignores the way Joonmyun’s toes start to lose their color to the air and gathers his voice before he speaks. “You’re not.” He adjusts his grip, and his arm and legs are tired, but he continues. “We’re close to the mall, already.”
Joonmyun laughs, turning to rest his cheek on Jongin and look at the sky. “Yeah, I guess I’m not done, yet.” The strands of his hair start to flicker in the fireflies’ dim light, and from black, they turn brown, they turn into a lucent tan. “Still have to keep you company, right?”
They walk a bit more, and the fireflies are ever-present.
A thought comes to Jongin’s mind, quiet and almost slipping out of his mouth; I want you to stay, but it’s okay. Joonmyun’s ankles start to fade. It’s okay.
Joonmyun speaks again, and Jongin starts to repeat the other man's words in his mind, each syllable like stars that Jongin has to keep close. “I remember seeing you in the forest, and you were searching. Lonely.” Joonmyun gently rubs circles onto Jongin’s back with his fingers. “So I’m keeping you company.”
Jongin remembers them all, barely knowing them, yet holding them close already; Zitao’s slowly growing brightness, Minseok’s brotherly, teasing care, the little cat curled next to Jongin’s head late at night. Baekhyun’s and Yifan’s eyes, longing in their own ways. Joonmyun.
Jongin smiles, the pulse in his thumbs disappearing, and he holds onto Joonmyun’s knees tighter, more tenderly. “I’m not really lonely anymore, though.” Joonmyun starts to get lighter against his back and Jongin tugs Joonmyun just a bit closer. It’s like they’re about to float away. “And I found what I was looking for, so.” Each footstep becomes easier than the last, less fatigued, more effortless - “I guess I’m done.” - and Jongin closes his eyes.
The smile he gets in reply is small and barely against his neck, the short breaths coming out of it unhurried and comforting. “Well, if you’re not lonely anymore, I guess I really am done, too.”
One of Joonmyun’s arms unfolds itself from Jongin’s back, fingers letting go of the cloth, slowly reaching up to sling themselves loosely around Jongin's shoulders. Then there’s the other arm, and there’s Joonmyun’s chin leaning against Jongin’s shoulder and Joonmyun’s hair, tickling Jongin’s temples. The notes being hummed next to his ear are warm and familiar, growing weaker, softer, gentler.
Jongin leans his head against Joonmyun’s, and when their temples meet, he begins to sing with him.
And all around them, from amongst the bushes and between the trees, filling the sky and the gaps between Jongin and Joonmyun’s bodies, are hundreds and hundreds of fireflies, flickering to life, like the brightest glow of a firework right before it goes out.
This is how the world had ended, and this is how it rises again.
The orange light dangling from Zitao’s hands is warm.
Right behind him, Yifan walks, face less troubled.
The walk to the mall is long, but not at all tolling. The branches part above the worn dirt perfectly and the starts shine well into the thicket along the road, peaceful, nature beginning to make its marks onto the pathway unhindered. There’s nothing to be scared of, somehow.
But right at the end of it, just as they’re a few steps away from the mall’s front doors, they see a man standing outside, waiting for them.
This man, smile as bright as the whites of his uniform, chuckles. “I was told to look for a guy with a lantern, but I guess he found me first.”
And behind his head, two fireflies dance in the air before fading into the stars.
fin.
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my entry for aideshou's third challenge! i really loved the word prompt: ichariba chode, which can be taken to mean 'though we meet but once, even by chance, we are friends for life.' beautiful, right? ,_, and chode is written as 兄弟, which can be understood as brotherhood, and isn't exo a brotherhood? i had to write something ;;
has a baekyeol sidestory, and some upcoming xiuhan and baektaoris ones. :)
please vote here if you liked it~ got first place! ;; thank you for your votes!
any comments are appreciated <3